Chlorine
by Rosedreams
Summary: A little ficlet for the Haunting season.  No pairings.  Gore.


Title: Chlorine  
Disclaimer: Not mine, and if they were, I would fear for my life. Rabid fans would eat me alive.  
Rating: PG-13ish?  
Pairings: None  
Warnings: Character death, some gore.  
Notes: Be gentle, it's my first time posting. This is also for my lovelies who know who they are. Betaed by  
**kwycksylver**

The experts said it started small, a few domestic animals missing here and there. Johnny finding the mutilated remains of his beloved pet and little Suzy scraping Puss off the porch. Nothing really news worthy except from a human interest stand point. As do most violent crimes, the damage escalated. The remains of a vagrant or two turning up so badly mangled that even the coroner had difficulties deducing the gender. The news was constantly hawking the dawning awareness of a new danger lurking in our city, urging all residents to keep their doors locked and a tab on any lone neighbor or family member.

Soon enough, more "bodies" were showing up. People on the streets were hovering in nervous groups; a curfew was placed on the city with patrolling police officers enforcing the restriction. The sheer brutality was staggering; a foot on one street, an eyeball in the sewer, a hand on a park bench. It was a macabre sort of jigsaw puzzle for the forensics to figure out.

Preventers wasn't called in until the body count had long since hit the double digits. Reasoning being that Preventers was to stop wars, not serial killers, but eventually the local law enforcement had reached the end of their collective rope. Citizens were terrified. One could never tell when they would be the one unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The case handed to us was sparse on information. No suspects, no witnesses, no cause of death, no M.O., nothing that could help in any way. Police patrols have proved ineffective in stopping or at least stalling the slayings. The coroner cringed every time her double doors opened, praying for a normal case to lie upon her table. Wishing she didn't need to rely upon state of the art DNA testing to match body part to bloody chunk of her victims or the need to store them in "Ziploc" bags instead of body bags.

Each of the five of us took turns re-interviewing the coroner regarding her reports, the police commissioner, and his officers, family members of the victims and everyone who happened to discover body parts. Nothing. The victims looked as if they were tossed in a blender and showered over 4 square blocks. There were no ties to the victims other than being caught alone and savaged by our killer.

Another disturbing factor, there was no guarantee that the killer was human. It was more likely that a homo-sapiens was the cause, but no one could figure how a human could physically shred a body that badly. The Game and Wildlife Warden kept a sharp eye out for any problem animals, but there hadn't been a documented case of an animal attack in decades.

The lack of information demanded that we split up and allow ourselves to become bait. Une was not pleased with our mutual decision, but conceded with one stipulation. We partner up. We were to have at least one team out every night, while the rest of our group searched for other possible cases in other states.

Several weeks went by after we were assigned the case without any conclusive results, only more bodies. We were all getting restless. The press was releasing non-stop news coverage and the people were on the verge of going on a man-hunt themselves. Up to three new bodies were discovered nearly daily and that was unacceptable. Une finally capitulated that research wasn't panning out and that we all needed to be out in the path of destruction. A team of three and a team of two were formed and sent out. I ended up tagging along with two others. We rented a hotel room to set up surveillance equipment and prepare for an outing once the sun set. A scurry of activity produced cameras covering nearly every square inch of the neighboring park. The place we were all hoping would produce our killer.

We stayed up all night, strolling about, trying to seem defenseless. Hours spent walking up and down pathways, cutting through likely bushes, resting on park benches, were all for naught. The only benefit that came of it, no one was murdered that night. At least not as far as anyone could tell. The same could be said for the next night… and the next.

There were only a few options as to why that would be. One, the killer was aware of our movements and batting average at case solving, or, one of us was the killer. I know we were all leaning towards option one as the second was too unnerving to consider.

Even though we believed we knew the other 4 in our esteemed group, doubts were rising. At any one time you could feel at least two pairs of eyes analyzing your every move. Any action thought to be unusual was scrutinized, cataloged, and stored in minds like a trap. Unfortunately, most of the questionable deeds could be explained away by another possible reason. A pilot not eating normally could just mean that he was human and was unable to stomach a meal with the image of carnage floating in front of his mind. Nervous pacing? Restless frustration. Still, each pilot discreetly reviewed times and dates of killings versus the whereabouts of the others only to hit another dead end.

A few more nights of peace brought about the tentative hope that the killer had moved on. We dared to take a breather and end patrol early one night, collapsing in our rented room to try and get some sleep. Our minds were only slightly appeased by the peace, but instinct kept us ready for the other shoe to drop.

We woke to a new day and a new body.

This one was so fresh; its blood was still steaming in the early morning chill. It looked as if the killer was hurried and left it in relatively one piece. The discovery of this body lead to finally revealing the murder weapon and the cause of death, a single horizontal slash across the throat with a serrated hunting knife. However, these findings did not explain the bone deep bites along the torso and ribcage; bites that left teeth marks in the bone. 

The knowledge that something was eating the victims was not a comforting thought. It had been guessed at, but without proof, one could ignore that possibility. The three of us met eyes across our office. Hands stilling on our keyboards, fingers poised to continue typing our crime report. Guilt flickered in their eyes, as I'm sure it was seen in mine. We dared to relax, and our killer took advantage of our inattention. We silently vowed to each other that we would not fail again.

Once again we set up "camp" in a hotel room. A different location, a different setting, and the other team close by. Weariness filled our limbs and the weight of our responsibility bowed our shoulders. We were no longer capable of all-nighters with our reserves drained.

It was an eventuality that we would fall asleep on the job. I watched out of the corner of my eye as my partners slowly nodded off as we stared at the security monitors. I had a moment to silently gloat to myself about outlasting them before my vision began to blur as well.

I'm not sure what roused me from my slumber, but I awoke disoriented and reeling from the smell of so much fresh blood. It took a moment to regain my sense of surroundings and self, and when I did, I wished I hadn't.

I was covered nearly head to toe in fresh slick blood. The heat of it warmed me slightly before cooling in the morning mist. My muscles slackened and something fell from my hand as I looked before me. A woman lay at my feet, exsanguinated from a single slash across her throat. I am the killer… That's not possible. Surely I would know that about myself. Please God let this be a dream!

If it was a dream, it quickly got worse. My teammate came out from the bushes as if in a trance, his nose twitching at the sharp coppery smell of her blood. He knelt slowly, trancelike beside her body. Leaning over her, scenting her, then before my eyes, he sunk his teeth into her flesh. Ripping great bloody chunks from her body and barely chewing before swallowing.

I stared at him, transfixed. I slowly blinked, trying to clear my mind, and then laughed out loud once, sharply, at the irony. We were tag team murdering the people we were protecting. I wished to cry, but I think my tear ducts were still frozen.

Memories danced in front of me of previous slayings and the thrill of the hunt. I was weeding out the weak humans who were too stupid to realize they were facing their own deaths. I realized my Doctor had manipulated my mind as well as my body. I had simply been a thief, a street rat. Not a killer. He changed that. He bred in me the need to destroy. I was essentially the chlorine in the gene pool.

I remember scoffing at the idea that I had started out killing mere animals. No, my first victims since the war were a couple of vagrants out for a drunken stroll, looking for a box to bed down in. I engaged them in a stunted conversation just for the hell of it. Then realized that these bags of flesh were a waste of resources, and before I knew it, I was watching that spark of life fade from their eyes. As I stared down at the heaps of flesh, a noise caught my attention. A team member, another pilot had caught me in my dirty deed. I prepared myself to fight, to defend myself, but was unpleasantly surprised to see him shiver. Eyes wide and reflecting the meager light before lowering to half-mast. With unusual gusto, he began tearing into the carcasses, sickening even me. I backed away and fled to my apartment, cleaning myself off with scalding hot water before going back to bed. Morning came, and memory left. I'm not sure what exactly triggered my killing spree nor do I know why I did not have conscious memory of my deeds. Each morning was a blank slate, greeted by the news of more slaughter.

After the vagrants, I had held off going out at night, but restlessness soon filled me with the need to escape my apartment. Once again, I found myself watching a stranger. A young lady with warm eyes and a dimpling smile. I talked to her. I learned what she was willing to reveal. I also learned what it was like to watch her smile turn to shock as her neck opened unexpectedly. For a moment, I couldn't fathom that I had sliced her. I saw her wide eyes slowly dim as life fled in a flow of crimson. I heard her death rattle, and I was oddly pleased. I had the power to take what God had given or not. I was also trained in the art of erasing my presence and I used it to my advantage. No one even suspected me even though I made many a trip home soaked in arterial blood. I'm not sure what drew Wu Fei to partake in his part of my twisted play. Perhaps it was the scent of fresh blood, but his perversion saved me from utilizing the many wonderful hiding places to stow my victim.

My greatest nightmare had come to life. I had become Shinigami; choosing who lived and who died, killing those whose instincts were too muted to know who to trust and who to run the hell away from. I had never figured that Chang Wu Fei would also become his namesake; Dragon.

I slumped to the ground, mind swirling as I tried to think of what I should do. I had to turn myself in, and hopefully convince Wu Fei to do so as well, and if I couldn't, I'd have to kill him. Every one knows that once an animal has the taste of human blood, the creature will be forever ruined.

I didn't have long to deliberate the hell we were drowning in. Yuy showed up in all his knightly glory and spandex. He entered to a scene of Wu Fei feasting on my victim, eyes almost glowing dimly in the moonlight, myself collapsed on the ground beside the murder weapon, still slick with her blood. He took one look at the situation and took action.

A single shot rang out in the pre-dawn mist, followed by a thud hitting the ground. The last of the Dragons had been sent to his ancestors.

Heero looked at me. Pity and remorse in his eyes, followed by resolve. Once again he raised the warm muzzle of his gun. Pointed it at my forehead and…


End file.
